Wishes and Fishes
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: Childhood is something simple, and easily lost. Mello/OC


**Wishes and Fishes**

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note or any of its respective characters. However, I do own Layla Levandi. Please do not use her without my permission._

The rain sounds like little kitten feet as it splashes up against Layla's skin, it's cold, and yet at the same time, oddly it's comforting. She likes the way it makes her have absolutely no feeling at all. She's apart from everything, joy, anger, and even sadness. It's nice to not be angry or sad once in a while.

She takes a deep, calm breath and looks upwards towards the brightness that is hidden behind a massive gray cloud. The rain makes more kitten feet noise as it splashes her cheeks and eyelids. Maybe, if she thinks hard enough, she can become something else. A seahorse, or a fish, and she can swim far away from her body.

Mello stares vacantly out the window of their apartment, watching her get soaking wet as she leans against a tree in front of the complex. _What the fuck is she doing? She's going to get sick if she doesn't come inside. _

Layla's weird sometimes, running outside when she hears the rain like a little kid, spinning around in small circles with her arms outstretched wide.

He can tell that it's cold, from the way the window is fogged up from the warmth in the apartment and the temperature outside.

_She'll catch a cold soon._ He thinks again before shaking his head. Then, he lets out a sigh and removes his hand from the cracked windowsill before striding across the living room where he puts his hand on the ice cold doorknob to turn it.

When he's outside, he shudders, disliking the cold wetness as the water plops down on the crown of his head. It's making irritating pitter patter noises on his leather pants too and he grumbles a curse in Russian.

Goddamn her to hell for making him go outside in the damned rain. It's ridiculous and childish and his boots are getting wet from the mud. He has half a mind to kill her when they get inside.

But when he gets underneath the tree, he can't bring himself to be fully angry with her. She looks so damned pathetic with her hair plastered to her face and wet clothes. Instead, Mello settles for annoyance when he speaks.

"Goddamn it, you. Go inside. You'll get sick." he snaps.

Her head lolls towards him, resting her chin on her shoulder. Her eyes look a little funny, as if she's not really seeing him.

"You're going to get sick," he says again, although now it's tinged with a little bit of uncertainty. She looks lost, and a little sad with her big grey eyes, the same shade as the clouds above them.

"I miss the house." she says softly and for a moment Mello wonders if she has lost her mind.

"Kiska," he says gently, "We're at our house."

But she shakes her head, dampening Mello slightly with strands of her hair, droplets of water flying on his face and chest.

"Don't you miss being kids?" she says wistfully, "I wish, I wish, I was a fish."

"No." he says quickly, and he knows that it's a lie. But outside in the pouring rain is no place to talk about being a child again. "Come inside."

"You used to say that whenever it rained," she murmurs softly, "that fish thing."

"It doesn't matter anymore." he mutters, reaching for her hand. Her skin feels like ice, all damp and cold. "You're freezing."

Wordlessly, he takes off his coat. Although it's rather damp on the outside, the inside is still dry and warm. The rain splatters on his bare shoulders and he fights a shiver, instead pulling Layla away from the tree.

He wraps the coat around her shoulders, rubbing her arms and attempting in vain to bring some warmth in her skin.

Mello pulls the hood up over her head and sighs, wiping away the droplets of water on the furry edge.

"Kiska, come inside. Be a good girl." Mello murmurs softly, pulling her up against him in hope that she will regain some of his body heat as he leads her back to the apartments.

When they're inside, where it is thankfully warm. But, Layla just stands there, then gazes out of the window. She lets out a heavy sigh as if the weight of some terrible burden is on her shoulders.

He peels her out of his coat, pausing to dry her off with a towel, brushing it playfully over her hair. He hooks his chin over her shoulder and smiles slightly, hoping to regain some cheerfulness in her face. When she does not smile back, he kisses her temple.

"What's the matter, Kiska?" he says, curling a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "What's gotten you so melancholy?"

"Being a kid I guess." she says after a moment, "Don't you miss being a kid?"

"No," he says after a moment, "I hated being told what to do."

She scoffs, "You don't miss anything before all this, when things were simpler?"

He doesn't know what she wants from him, what he should say or do. Instead, he focuses on pulling her to the couch to sit her down on the sofa. He tilts her back to him and begins combing through her hair, little wet strands sticking to his fingers.

Layla smells like rain, oddly fresh and clean, even though it hardly ever rains in Los Angeles.

"What is there to miss?" he asks mildly.

"When we didn't fear Kira with every breath we took, when we didn't _hurt_ so much." Layla says softly, drawing her knees up to her chest.

When he pulls her against him, he can't help but remember his own singsong chant every time it rained.

_"I wish, I wish, I was a fish."_


End file.
